


This Is How We've Been Remade

by augopher



Series: The Things We Make, We Make With Love [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Married Kira Yukimura/Scott McCall, Married Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, New York City, Stiles' Birthday, Vacation, gender variant character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' birthday is approaching, and Derek plans a vacation as a present. Okay, really it's the best way to disguise the perfect marriage proposal. </p><p>But first, he has to survive a month and a half wait. He can do this. Piece of cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Game of Horse and a Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait between installments. I've been working on this one since March, but other things kept getting in the way.
> 
> I hope this fic is worth the wait.
> 
> Please don't post on Goodreads or any similar site.

Derek chased the basketball down the driveway, corralling it at the sidewalk.

 

“That’s H-O-R-S, Daddy.” Stephen caught the ball from his father. “One more letter and you lose.” He shook his finger at him and lined up to shoot the basket.

 

“I know. I guess I must have left my A-game inside.” Derek was letting him win.  

 

“Yeah, you really brought your Z-game today.”

 

Wow, so much sass at the hands of a seven year old. Oh well. They had an important errand to run, and they needed to do so before Stiles came home from the gym. Derek looked up as Stephen sunk his shot into the hoop, which Derek admitted, he’d set up too high for Stephen, but come on. There was no way he could play on a hoop six feet off the ground. So eight feet it was.

 

Stephen passed the ball to him, and Derek shot it off the backboard. It didn’t go in.

 

“I win!”

 

Derek messed up his hair. “Let’s go get changed. I have to go do something, and I need my first mate along for the ride.”

 

“Oooh, what are we doing, Daddy?”

 

“Well it’s really important, and I need the best secret keeper I know to come help me.”

 

Stephen’s eyes lit up as he walked through the front door. “Really? I’m the best?”

 

“Oh absolutely. Now go get changed. We have to be out of the house before Tatuś gets home.” Derek followed him up the stairs and jumped into the shower.

 

Five minutes later, he no longer smelled like a gym sock and found Stephen sitting on the couch waiting for him. “Ready to go on this Top Secret mission?”

 

Stephen saluted him. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

 

In the car, Stephen sang along to the radio. “I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire. 'Cause I am a champion and you're gonna hear me roar.”

 

Derek really hoped his son would eventually come to appreciate music both Stiles and himself liked, instead of the Kid’s Bop versions of popular songs. Really, he could strangle Erica for getting him into that stuff. _Couldn’t you have introduced him to the original recording instead? I may not be into pop music, but I’d sure as hell rather listen to Katy Perry sing it than some watered down kid’s version._ “Oh would you look at that, the CD’s over. Time for something new.”

 

“Nuh-uh, Daddy. That’s the first song.”

 

He shuddered to think how many times Stephen had listened to the album in order to have the track listing memorized. Seriously, Erica had bought him, every single one of them, all thirty of them...or however many there were now. “Nope. It’s over.” Derek stabbed the console to turn on the radio.

 

Derek turned off Skyway RD onto Park AVE until eventually, he reached their destination.

 

“What are we doing here, Daddy?”

 

Derek walked around to meet Stephen on his side of the car. “So far I haven’t been able to find one I like, one that’s perfect. That’s why I need you to help me make Tatuś the perfect birthday present. But we can’t tell him about it.”

 

“Because it’s a surprise.”

 

“That’s right.” Derek held open the door to the non-descript business inside a strip mall.

 

“You can count on me.”

 

Derek looked down at him. "I knew I could.” They sat down in the lobby, waiting for someone to come help them.

 

Before long, a woman in professional attire came to greet them. “You must be my two o’clock appointment. Derek, right?”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

She knelt down to Stephen’s level. “And who is this?” She asked smiling.

 

“I’m Stephen.”

 

“Well, Stephen. Did your Daddy tell you what we’re going to be doing today?”

 

“Making a special present for Tatuś.”

 

“Follow me, Gentlemen.” She led them back to her desk.

 

“So, Stevie. I need you to help me, because you are much more creative than I am. Remember what you said to me in the grocery store over the summer?”

 

“About a baby sister?”

 

“Before that.”

 

Stephen’s mouth hung open in shock. “Are you and Tatuś really gonna get married?” He half shouted in elation.

 

“I have to ask him first. So don’t spill the beans.”

 

Stephen pulled his legs onto the chair, folding them underneath him as he practically bounced with excitement. “You have to make it really romantic. Like they do in the movies.”

 

Derek chuckled. “I’m working on that. First, I need a ring.” He turned to the jeweler. “I need your help. Everything I found in the larger stores- I don’t know how to explain it, but their rings for men were just…”

 

“Boring?”

 

“Yes, exactly.”

 

She pulled out a tablet and started a work order. “First things first. What type of budget are we looking at?”

 

“I don’t really have one. Money is not an issue. I just want it to be perfect for him.”

 

She smiled. “I know you said over the phone you wanted to have two rings made. I’m assuming one is for you. Let’s get you sized first then, shall we?” She slipped the blanks over his ring finger until she found the right size. “And you said you had a ring of his for me to measure?”

 

Derek took out the class ring John had insisted Stiles order to commemorate his time at graduate school. Stiles wore it to graduation, and hadn’t since. “He got that about a year ago. It fit fine.” He watched her record its size on the work order.

 

As she continued with the standard questions about metal and thickness, Derek looked over to see Stephen wearing his, ‘I have something to say’ expression. “What is it buddy?”

 

“I have a great idea how they should look.” He picked Derek’s phone up off the desk and unlocked the screen, browsing through his pictures, until Derek snatched the phone away from him. “Hey! I was looking for a picture.”

 

Derek rose an eyebrow at him. “Well maybe there are things on there I don’t want you to see.”

 

“Like presents?”

 

“Yeah.” If by presents, Stephen meant the two nudes Stiles sent him a month ago when Derek was in Seattle for a seminar for work, then yep. There were pictures of presents on his phone. What? It was a really long two weeks, okay? “Which picture are you looking for?”

 

“The one from Easter that Tatuś took where you’re drinking from your coffee cup. The one he made you.”

 

Derek liked where his son’s head was at. “Were you thinking something with a wolf and fox?”

 

“Yes! That’s it, Daddy! You should do that.”

 

Derek found the picture and showed the clerk. “How can we work this into a set of rings?”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek stirred the bowl of sauce in his hand and looked at his son. The boy was damn near covered in flour. "How's that crust coming?"

 

Stephen looked at the lump of dough on the table. "Um...  I don't know."

 

Derek sat down the bowl and grabbed the rolling pin. "Well how about this?  Can you get the veggies off the counter while I roll out the dough?  They should be cooled off now." He had the dough stretched into the pan in no time. "Do you want me to do the sauce?"

 

"Yep. I got the cheese and the veggies."

 

He heard the door into the house from the garage open. "Have a good time,  Babe?"

 

Stiles, gym bag in hand, walked into the kitchen. Last month he’d discovered an adaptive swimming club based in Chico. Better than any support group, they practiced at the gym every Wednesday, and it had done wonders for his attitude towards his leg. Not only had he made friends, some of whom understood exactly what he was going through, one of the members coached as well. All of his strokes had improved at least fivefold. "I got my 400 down to six minutes ten seconds, which is I guess pretty good.”

 

“Good job, Babe.” Derek smiled at him. “You still thinking of trying to qualify for that big competition in May? The one in Berkeley?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “As it stands right now, I am not technically eligible. Competitions are only for the permanently disabled, and I dunno, I’ve been doing some reading up on all of that. There are a lot of things I’d need to do to be eligible. But I mean, I think I could do it.”

 

“Lot of things like what?”

 

“Well most of these competitions, I guess, fall under the Paralympic Committee.”

 

“So?”

 

“You have to get classified, and I mean I think my leg would put me in class seven for what I like to swim, but then Adderall is technically banned so I’d need an exemption.”

 

“Sounds like you’re talking yourself out of it.”

 

“Not really going to get too interested in it until I get an updated condition from my doc.”

 

“If it goes that way, I think you should try. Even if it doesn't, which is what we're all hoping for, train for the meet anyway.”

 

Stiles gave him a little smile. That was Derek’s subtle way of saying the club had been good for him. “Mmm. Smells yummy in here."

 

"Yeah, we're making pizza. I cut up all the veggies." Stephen grinned at him.

 

Stiles rubbed his head. "Did you now?  That's a pretty big deal." He kissed Derek's cheek, then filled a glass with water. "I have time to shower before dinner?"

 

"Yeah. This needs about twenty-five minutes to bake. What happened to showering at the gym?"

 

"Ah," Stiles swallowed a gulp of water, "my favorite shower stall was out of order, and all the others were filled by other group members that need them more. Despite my suggestion card, there are still no seats in the open shower area."

 

"Why is it your favorite,  Tatuś?"

 

"The tile on the floor has the most grip. It has a bench in it, and it helps when my leg is too tired to let me stand. Anyway, I smell like a pool, so I'm gonna go rinse off."

 

“Oh, I picked up your prescriptions for you.”

 

Stiles kissed his forehead. “Such a prince.”

 

Upstairs, Stiles tossed his clothes into the hamper and emptied out his swim bag onto the bathroom counter. Trunks and brace in the sink, he rinsed both out and hung them over the curtain rod. Then, he lifted his shower seat from the corner and placed it in the tub.

 

After a fall last month, his neurologist decided it best that he invest in one just to be safe. At first, Stiles grumbled something about not being an invalid and refused, but when his knee buckled and sent him off balance (Almost resulting in another tumble), he relented. He still didn't like it though, made him feel like an old man.

 

The bathroom door opened, and he wiped the shampoo out of his eyes, looking up to see Derek pop his head into the shower.

 

"Hey."

 

"So Stevie wants to play _Life_ after dinner. I didn't know if you had stuff to work on tonight."

 

Stiles rubbed his shoulders. He'd been working on the butterfly lately, finishing up practice with the stroke, which was murder on his shoulders. "No,  I finished my write ups before I left the office. Sounds good. I'll be down in a few minutes."

 

True to his word, Stiles sat down at the table shortly after Derek left the bathroom.

 

"Tatuś, we made everything by ourselves. This pizza is gonna be the best ever."

 

Derek tapped Stephen on the arm. "Why don't you tell him about school?"

 

"Oh yeah. In December we're having an art fair at school, and my art teacher Mr. Morris picked me to have a display!  I told Hava at lunch, and she was so excited!  The choir is going to sing songs."

 

"That sounds really cool,  Buddy. What are you going to make?"

 

Stephen chewed a bite of his pizza, continuing to talk before swallowing. "Dunno yet, but it's gonna be awesome."

 

"I'm sure it will be, and how is Hava?" Stiles asked of Stephen's ex-girlfriend. She'd held the title of girlfriend for three weeks. Neither child seemed all that broken up about it. Oh to be a kid again. Now, as Stephen put it, she was his second best friend.

 

"She says her teacher isn't as much fun as Mrs. Chen was."

 

"That's too bad, but you like Miss Lincoln, right?"

 

"Oh yeah. She's really nice."

 

Derek watched as the two of them talked about school, and he felt his anxiety that Stephen would spill his secret slip away. After dinner, while they played their board game, it began to rain, quite heavily at that.

 

“I thought the rain was supposed to pass right by us.” Stiles smacked himself on the forehead. “I think I left the sunroof open!” He hurried off the couch, but Derek had already pulled on his shoes and grabbed the keys. “I could do it you know!” He called after him, but when Derek returned looking half-soaked after being out in the rain for a minute tops, Stiles was pretty glad his boyfriend volunteered. “Thanks, Kochanie. Suppose being able to run-”

 

“There’s a lot of water rushing down the driveway already. I was worried about you slipping.”

 

 _Oh...oh. How sweet_. Stiles blushed.

 

“I win!” Stephen declared as his piece moved into Millionaire Estates. “While you were outside, Daddy, I counted your money. I have more than you. Tatuś loses.”

 

Both Stiles and Derek laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm as he packed up the game.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

In the dark, Stiles shifted on the bed. “Oh my, God, D. I could sing odes to your mouth.” He groaned, his hand tangled in Derek’s hair. “Seriously, your oral skills are a gift to mankind, namely me.” Outside, a clap of thunder shook the house, and just as Stiles felt that familiar pull in the small of his back, there was a knock on their bedroom door.

 

Derek pulled his mouth off him. “What is it, Buddy?”

 

“I’m scared. Can I come sleep in there with you and Tatuś?”

 

Stiles bit down on his hand to muffle the exasperated groan. So close, he’d been so close. Hell if he’d be able to fall asleep now.

 

“Just a second.” Derek crawled off the bed and fumbled around in the dark for his gym shorts, giving Stiles a tap on the foot before he tossed his boyfriend’s pajama pants at him. He leaned over the edge of the bed to give him a kiss. “Sorry, Babe. I’ll make it up to you in the shower in the morning.”

 

When they had both redressed, Derek opened the bedroom door to let Stephen in, who walked into the room crawled into the middle of the bed between them.

 

How the boy and his little body took up so much space was a mystery to Stiles, not that he cared at all, because if he had to be honest, family snuggle time had become one of his favorite things in the world.

 

 


	2. To the Batcave...or the Tilt-a-Whirl

“Tatuś, my face is itchy.” Stephen fussed with the eye mask on his face.

 

Stiles pulled off his cowl so he could see him better. “You could always just not wear it. No one will care if you don’t.”

 

“But Elastigirl said my identity is my most valuable possession.” Stephen adjusted the Robin mask and continued walking through the Beacon County Fairgrounds. “See look. Even Daddy is wearing a mask.” He pointed to his father’s costume.

 

“You’re right.” Stiles tugged back on his Batman cowl.

 

“I don’t know how you managed to talk me into being Nightwing,” Derek groaned. “I wanted to be Wolverine.”

 

“Duh, Daddy. Wolverine is Marvel. Me and Tatuś are DC. It wouldn’t have worked out.”

 

“You could have at least let me be Batman.”

 

Stiles patted his cheek. “Aww is somebody a grumpy puppy?”

 

Derek snapped at him like a dog.

 

“Besides, it’s painfully obvious you’re my sidekick.” Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand.

 

Derek chuckled, because he knew Stiles was right. Good God, was Stiles right. The guy could say jump, and not only would he say ‘how high,’ but he’d ask if a bungee cord was required. Hell, he’d been that way since...well probably right away in their relationship

 

He changed the subject as he paid tickets so that Stephen could go in the bounce house. “Care to bob for apples?” He asked Stiles.

 

“And get my face full of water?”

 

“Don’t be such a Negative Nate.”

 

“Fine. You’re on. Quickest one to an apple wins.”

 

Derek smirked. “And what do I win?”

 

“You’ll just have to see. I warn you; I am an excellent bobber.”

 

_I bet you are._ He played the gentleman card and let Stiles go first. His boyfriend, as it turned out, did not overestimate his skills and had an apple in no time. However, Derek had also failed to mention that for once, his bunny teeth were perfectly adapted for something.

 

Easy pickings.

 

Stiles spluttered. “How the hell… I was the champion of apple bobbing just about every year of school. Ask Scott. He’ll tell you. Of course, he’ll also say it’s because of my big mouth. And you...GAH!” He threw up his hands in frustration, the same hands which also happened to include the apple he’d just retrieved. He flinched as the piece of fruit went flying towards the Boo Basketball Shoot Out stand. “Sorry! I’m a clumsy menace! I swear it wasn’t intentional, overjoyed at finally getting the apple!” He looked over to see Derek smiling at him. “What?”

 

Derek pulled Stiles towards him. “Nothing.” He kissed his forehead. Now that he’d actually started the process of designing an engagement ring, had ideas formed in his head, how the hell was he going to make it to November, when all he wanted just about every day, was to blurt out the question that had been weighing on his mind?

 

He bought three apple ciders while they waited for Stephen to finish his turn. When the timer went off, Stephen came bounding out of the  giant inflatable castle, cheeks pulled up in a giant grin.

 

“Oh my gosh! That was so much fun! You should have seen me. I jumped higher than anyone. It was awesome.” He took the cup of juice from his father, slurping it down with nary a pause for breath.

 

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Boy Wonder.” Stiles laughed. “You don’t want to throw up.”

 

The three walked amongst the games and artisan booths, stopping to buy a giant bag of kettle corn before Stephen pulled them towards a game booth.

 

“Can I, Daddies? Can I, please?” He held his hands together like he was praying.

 

Derek looked across the ring of jars, some empty aside from water, others containing single goldfish swimming around in spaces far too small to be happy. He was hesitant, doubting Stephen would actually take care of the fish (This would not be the first time they’d tried keeping fish as pets). “Do you remember last time?”

 

Stiles winced, recalling the fat tears that rolled down Stephen’s face when he found the goldfish they’d purchased for him a year before floating belly up in his bowl.

 

“I know, but I’m bigger now. I promise I’ll remember to feed him this time. Please, please, please.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek as he gave in and paid the ticket to the game operator.

 

Stephen took his three ping pong balls and tossed the first towards the jars. It went in, but the jar was filled only with water. “Bummer.” His second ball bounced off the rim of another jar, but the boy was not deterred. The last ball flew through the air, landing safely in an occupied jar. Bursting with excitement, Stephen jumped up and down, his arms raised in triumph above his head. “I did it! Didn’t need your help this time, Daddy!”

 

“Say cheese, Buddy,” Stiles said, holding up his camera.

 

With pride, Stephen held up the plastic bag containing his new pet, one he named Nemo. “Cheese!”

 

“Come on now buddy, let’s find the rest of our group.” Derek took Stephen’s hand on one side and wrapped his other arm around Stiles’ waist on the other. He was glad he decided not to donate the fishbowl and supplies from the dearly departed Flounder.

 

A few minutes later, Stiles spotted his dad. “They’re over that way.” They traversed through the mass of fairgoers until they made it to his family. Before even acknowledging anyone else, he looked at Kira. “Now where’s that beautiful goddaughter of mine?”

 

Scott laughed. “Gee thanks, Stiles. Replace me with my kid. I see how it is.”

 

“Oh quiet, you. You’re just jealous she’s prettier than you.” As soon as Kira set Akiko in his arms, Stiles turned into a mess of babbles and coos until he got a giggle out of her.

 

“Seriously? How do you manage to put up with him?” Scott asked Derek who simply smiled.

 

“I accepted that he likes Stevie more than me, and the sooner you do the same for your daughter, the happier you will be.”

 

Stiles looked up from where he was giving his niece tummy raspberries and scowled. “Hey! I resent that. I like you perfectly well.” He winked.

 

Derek pointed his hand at Stiles. “See? What did I tell you?”

 

Melissa smiled. “And how are you all?”

 

“Look! I won a fish!” Stephen held up his victor’s spoils. “This is Nemo.”

 

“Well now,” Melissa inspected the bag, “that is a very handsome fish.”

 

“Yeah, and he’s gonna live way longer than Flounder did, because I promise I will remember to feed him this time.”

 

She tried not to laugh at him. “So, Boys, what would you like for dinner? Our treat.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, Mel.”

 

“Quiet, Stiles. This is a family outing, and your dad and I are buying your dinner.” When she wore her ‘Take no prisoners’ expression, it was hard to disobey the woman.

 

“Can I have a chili dog with lots of french fries?” Stephen asked, eyes wide with hope.

 

“Or maybe a little bit of french fries with some fruit?”

 

“Aw, Daddy, do I gotta? I want lots and lots of ketchup!” He watched his father deadpan and lower his brows. “Okay, fine. a chili dog with some fries and fruit.” His body sagged in defeat.

 

Derek laughed. “I’ll have…” He scanned the nearby food stands. “A chicken gyro with the little salad instead of fries and a Diet Coke.”

 

Stiles choked back a laugh. “Switching to calorie free cola in your old age, Kochanie?” He held up his hands in surrender when Derek glared at him. “Well, I volunteer to help you get all the food.”

 

“Nonsense. Sit, please.” She leveled him with a stare. “What would you like?”

 

“One of those ears of corn with the cheese...what’s it called again? Help me out, D.”

 

“Cotija.”

 

He pointed to Derek. “What he said. And the pork tacos with a Coke please.”

 

Melissa and John, who appeared to have been waiting for the three of them to show up, went to get everyone’s dinner.

 

Kira reached into the bottom of their stroller and pulled out a large brown paper bag. “Oh, Stevie, Uncle Scott and I got this for you.”

 

“You didn’t need to get him anything.” Both Derek and Stiles said in unison.

 

She gave them a smirk and a pointed glance. “Open it.”

 

Stephen reached into the bag, pulling out a can painted like Frankenstein’s monster. “Neat! But...what is it?”

 

She reached across the table and took out the rest of the cans, stacking them up. “You take the ball and knock them over. They’re a little heavier than empty cans; I think they have a bit of cement in them. It’s a game for the yard.”

 

“Oh cool! Look, they’re all monsters. This one’s a pumpkin, and ooh, a vampire. Thank you.”

 

She smiled. “You’re welcome. Uncle Scott saw that and thought you’d really like it.”

 

Stephen hopped up from his seat and hurried around the table to give them both a hug. “I’m gonna play it tomorrow. It’s gonna be so much fun.”

 

Soon, John and Melissa returned with their arms laden with food, and everyone dug in while John regaled them with a story of a memorable traffic stop the night before in which the driver, clearly heading to a party dressed as Tarzan, was wearing only a loincloth. He tried to convey that he wasn’t sure who was more embarrassed, himself or the guy he stopped. When everyone was finished eating, Scott stood up.

 

“So, Kira and I were thinking about going through the haunted house. Do you three want to come? My mom and John already said they aren’t going.”

 

Derek looked over at Stephen trying to decide if it would be appropriate for him, and was about to decline on his behalf, but Stephen beat him to it.

 

“No, no, no. I saw the really big spider over the door. That’s too scary. I don’t wanna go in there.”

 

“You don’t have to. I can stay out here with you while Tatuś goes in with them.”

 

“But Daddy, don’t you want to go?”

 

He did. It sounded like fun.

 

“He can walk around with us while you four go have fun.” John’s voice brought him out of his head. Derek opened his mouth to respond, but John wouldn’t let him refuse. “We already have Akiko with us. What’s an extra traveller?”

 

Stiles thanked them both, because Derek seemed to have lost his ability to speak, and the four of them were soon standing in line waiting to go it. Stiles wrapped an arm around Derek’s waist. “I wasn’t going to come in without you, by the way.”

 

Derek smiled. “Too scared?”

 

He laughed. “It’s dark, there are strobe lights, and people jumping out at you, plus...unstable footing.”

 

Oh. He hadn’t even considered that. “Well, I will do my best to ensure you do not fall down.”

 

They paid their tickets at the door and bravely wandered in, Stiles stating that so long as he didn’t see any rats, he should be okay. As far as haunted houses go, it was nothing too special, despite being three stories tall. Way too many stairs. Just as a monster of some sort jumped out of the shadows at Scott, the man squealed, eliciting a laugh from the other three.

 

“Oh shut up. Startled me.”

 

By the time they neared the top floor, the fog machines had been turned on to full. As a precaution, Scott patted the pocket of his jacket, ensuring he did, indeed, have his inhaler. An asthma attack, as it turned out would not be the problem they faced.

 

The end of the first hallway gave way to almost zero visibility, the white strobe lights replaced by flickering ones with orange and red filters. As waves of manufactured fog rolled through the hallway in rivulets, the room growing warmer, Derek felt his chest tighten.

 

Though it smelled nothing like the acrid smoke from that night almost fifteen years ago, in Derek’s mind, it was all the same. He’d been in there, if but briefly, to try and find his youngest siblings, eleven year old Cora and eight year old Alex, only to be overwhelmed by the smoke. Despite his protests, and before he found either of them, he’d been dragged out by firemen, an oxygen mask strapped over his face. Hell, his thigh bore faint scars they didn’t talk about aside from how he got them when an ember burned through his pants and skin.

 

They rounded the corner and flames, simulated by undulating orange silk, blown by unseen fans, backlit by tiny bulbs, taunted him to his face, a constant reminder of his loss. Suddenly, it was as if he was back inside his family’s house, hearing the desperate pleas for help from inside, and Laura’s panicked screams from outside.

 

He couldn’t breathe, and he...had to get out of there.

 

Paying no conscious mind to his surroundings, he backed up, bumping into something firm but yielding. Whatever it was that had grabbed onto his hand and his arm, he shook loose. Muffled by the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, the shouts of his name as staggered blindly for an exit fell on deaf ears.

 

Scott extended a hand down to help Stiles off the floor. “Are you okay, Man?”

 

Stiles hissed in pain as his step-brother pulled him to his feet. He used Scott’s shoulder to steady him as they walked, fully confident in the guy’s ability to catch him should he stumble. “Yeah, just smacked my back on something on the way down.”

 

“I thought for sure you’d be the first to want to get out of here not Derek.”

 

Stiles took a look around them as best he could in the dark and pieced together what had sent his boyfriend running for the hills. Fire. “Look, I need to go make sure he’s okay. You guys and finish the tour if you want.”

 

“Do you want my help on the stairs?”

 

Stiles pat him on the back. “No, I’ll be fine if I go slow and carefully.” He hurried off, well hurried as fast as he could, to the far stairs he knew led to the exit. The fresh night air felt like a relief on his face when he opened the door. Unfortunately, Derek was nowhere to be seen. Stiles pulled out his phone and dialed Derek’s number. It went to voicemail.

 

On the other side of the fairgrounds, John and Melissa had been trading off turns going on rides with Stephen. The funhouse had been Melissa’s turn, and the pair walked out of the building just in time too. Akiko had grown fussy in the ten minutes they’d been inside.

 

“That one mirror made you look really funny. You had really short legs and very long face!” Stephen laughed, swinging their arms between him.

 

“I sure did.”

 

“Why is baby Kiki crying?”

 

John passed the infant over to Melissa. “Someone misses Grandma.”

 

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Sure she does. You just don’t want to change her diaper.”

 

“Hey now. I checked that already. Pretty sure she’s hungry.”

 

“She can have some of my cotton candy.”

 

“That’s very nice of you, Stevie, but babies can’t eat candy.”

 

“Oh. That’s too bad.” He leaned over Melissa’s arm to look into Akiko’s eyes. “It’s delicious. You are missing so much,” he said while he shoved another handful into his mouth as they started walking back to the haunted house. “Hey, Miss Melissa?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you my grandma too?” He held open the bag for John to steal a chunk of the sugary fluff despite his wife's non-verbal protest.

 

Melissa smiled. “Not in the same way, but if you want to call me Grandma that’s more than okay with me.”

 

More cotton candy went into his mouth. “Uh huh. Is it because Daddy and Tatuś aren’t married?” He swallowed. “Because they’re gonna get married. Daddy told me so.”

 

This was news to both John and Melissa. “When did that happen?”

 

Suddenly, as if he’d realized what he’d just said, he slapped a hand over his mouth, before he started to cry. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody. Daddy said I was his little secret keeper, and he needed my help. He’s gonna be so mad at me.” He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Melissa’s waist so he could sob into her chest.

 

She rubbed the back of his head. “It’s supposed to be a surprise?” He nodded into her shirt. “For us or for Stiles?”

 

“Tatuś. Daddy took me with him when he went ring shopping, and I ruined it.”

 

“Hey,” she turned his face up to meet hers, “if it’s supposed to be a surprise, John and I won’t say anything.”

 

“I didn’t mean to tell Daddy’s secret. I was just...just….”

 

She pushed his mask up onto his forehead and wiped his eyes. “It’s okay. We won’t tell him you said anything. Will we, John?”

 

“Nope. It’s safe with us.”

 

Stephen wiped new tears away with the back of his hand. “You promise?”

 

John held out his pinky. “I pinky swear.” Stephen stepped forward and linked fingers with him. “That’s better.”

 

As the haunted house came into view, they saw Derek sitting at a picnic table rubbing his temples.

 

“Where’s the other three?” John asked.

 

Derek looked up, blinking at him in confusion. “Um..I’m not… Don’t really know.”

 

“There you are!” Stiles called out, limping over to him.  He sat down and took Derek’s hand. “So next time we want to go to one of these things, I’ll call ahead and ask what they have inside. How’s that sound?”

 

Derek leaned his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “That hasn’t happened to me in five years I think. Freaked out a bit when we came back from Tahoe one time, and there was a wildfire in the area. Smoke was everywhere. Erica had to turn the car around because I wanted out. Apparently, I tried to jump out of the moving car. I mean, I know it was fake in there, just...I don’t know.”

 

Stiles rubbed the back of his head and kissed his temple. “You’re okay.” He looked up to see Scott and Kira walking over.

 

“Oh good.” Melissa handed Akiko to Kira and grabbed the nursing cover from the diaper bag. “Someone is hungry.”

 

After a short dinner break, the group continued enjoying their night out, and Derek's mood eventually improved. While Scott and Kira rode the Tilt-a-Whirl with Stephen, his parents looked on, smiling and waving at him as the car spun past.

 

Derek's hand rubbed Stiles' back, but when his fingers brushed just above his tailbone, Stiles flinched. "What?"

 

Stiles shook his head. "S'nothing. Just hit my back on something in the haunted house." He remained vague on purpose; he did not want to make Derek feel guilty over something he had not intended to happen, nor did he have any control over.

 

"What? I don't remember that."

 

Stiles stuck out his tongue at Stephen, mimicking the face the boy gave him. "It was after you left."

 

Derek fell silent for several seconds while he tried to piece together the last events he remembered from inside the house. "Stiles, did I knock you down?"

 

"Don't worry about it. Accidents happen." He looked over to see Derek furrow his brow. "I'm fine."

 

"I'm sorry, Babe."

 

"It's nothing. Only what will be a nice looking bruise in the morning."

 

"But-"

 

"But no. I'm not fragile, Derek, and if you start thinking I am, I will eventually start to resent you, and I don't want that to happen. You bumped into me; I fell down. Could have happened anywhere. End of story." He squeezed his hand. "Okay?" Derek nodded, and Stiles kissed his temple. "Good."

 

When the ride came to an end, they collected Stephen from the exit, and neither man brought up the incident again, nor did either mention how much slower Stiles walked for the rest of the night.  

  
  



	3. Let's Talk About Art, Shall We?

Derek turned off the ignition and exited his car, walking towards the Stilinski household. Melissa had the front door open before he made it halfway up the driveway.

 

"Hey, Derek. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

 

"Is John home? I mean you might be able to help, but I have a couple questions for him."

 

She beckoned him into the house. "Yeah, come on in. You want something to drink?"

 

"Water would be fine, thank you."

 

She pointed to the living room, where John sat watching a college football game. The man looked up when Derek entered the room. "Hey there. Where's the rest of the family?"

 

"Stiles is having 'Bro Time' with Scott, and Stevie is at a tea party lunch with Amy and her mom. Just me."

 

"What brings you here?"

 

Derek wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. "You wouldn't happen to know Stiles' favorite piece of art, would you?"

 

"I can't say that I do, why?"

 

"Well, it's about Stiles' birthday present. We haven't gone on a vacation or anything close since we got together aside from that weekend where Erica and Boyd watched Stevie for us. I want to surprise him with a trip, but where we go kind of depends on his favorite art. He already requested vacation time for that week anyway. I just figured he should put it to better use."

 

John nodded, Stephen's accidental confession at Halloween peeking out from the back of his mind. "Well, sorry I couldn't help you out there, but I remember his mom's favorite. It's something by El Greco. The name escapes me, but it's a landscape. There's hills and buildings, lots of lush green. I'd know it if I saw it, but he loved it, because _she_ did."

 

Derek searched on his phone until he found something that sounded like what John had described. “Is this it?”

 

John took the phone from him and looked at the picture. “Yeah. That’s the one.” He read the inscription at the bottom. “ _View of Toledo_. Anyway that’s at the Met in New York City. Stiles never cleaned out his art from the attic when he moved out. There was a sculpture he did a report on in high school that he seemed to like a lot. You’re welcome to go check up there. I warn you though, it is a pigsty.”

 

“Thanks. That sounds like a great idea.”

 

“Do you want some help navigating up there?” John rose from his recliner and led Derek to the pulldown ladder.

 

“If you want. I’d hate to tear you away from your game.”

 

“Nonsense. It was a blowout anyway.” They climbed the ladder into the attic, which was exactly as John had described, a mess. “So, his stuff is in this back corner.”

 

Somehow, they managed to make it over there without a) breaking their necks tripping over something and b) falling through the floor. A success, definitely a success. They began to sift through years of Stiles’ art, ranging from stick figure drawings made in kindergarten all the way to some paintings and a few sculptures he made in undergrad, one of which, Derek was quite taken with. “Hey, since this is just gathering dust, do you think I could take this one home? It would look really nice on our mantle.”

 

John looked at the family of foxes ceramic statue. “I forgot he made that one. Sure. It’s not being appreciated up here.” He rifled through a box of old school work. “Here we go. He wrote this for his AP Art History class.” He passed the report over to Derek.

 

“ _Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss_ \- 1793, by Canova.” He kept reading. “Yeah he really seems to like this one a lot. It’s at the Louvre though.” Derek pulled out his phone and looked up more works by the artist. “But, the Met has one of his other sculptures. Thanks, John. I think this will work well.”

 

As they ventured back downstairs, John finally bit the bullet and asked the question that had been weighing on his mind. “So, I’m just a curious old cop, ignore me if you want, but this seems a little excessive for a 26th birthday present if you ask me.” He looked over to see Derek’s face turn red. “Not just a birthday present I see.”

 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, no, now that you’ve brought it up. His birthday is just an excuse to take vacation and put my plan into action.” He went on to explain his idea for what he thought would the perfect proposal would be, leaving out some details just in case one of them spilled the beans.

 

“That’s...adorable.” Melissa almost sobbed from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He is going to love that.”

 

“Oh, well good I hope so.”

 

“And you’re here because… you wanted to ask permission?” The look on his face had to be the most confused expression Derek had ever seen the man wear.

 

“No offense, but I think if I did that, Stiles would have my head. On a pike. Displayed in our front yard. No, art is important to how I want to ask.”

  
  


*   *   *   *   *

  
  


Derek held open the door at Luciano’s for Stiles and Stephen to walk through. John texted him that he had a table for them already. The host led them back to their table where the rest of the family had already gathered.

 

“So in the interest of time, since they are pretty damn busy in here today, I went ahead and ordered family size portions of alfredo, spaghetti, and baked macaroni and cheese. There should be enough for all of us to share. If that’s okay. There’s also salad, breadsticks, and I think Melissa ordered a pitcher of sangria. I tried telling her that only her and Kira like it, but she was quite insistent.”

 

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, well they can be saucy by the end of the night.”

 

Derek shrugged. “Well, I would rather a glass of red, but I don’t mind it.” He pulled out Stephen’s chair first and then Stiles’.

 

“Such a gentleman.” Across the table from him, sat Akiko, her baby carrier resting comfortably on a high chair. Stiles unrolled his silverware and used the napkin to cover his face before quickly moving it out of the way. “Boo.” Before long, his game of peek-a-boo had her giggling up a storm. “See, I told you I was funny.” He glanced over to see Derek smiling at him. “What’s with the dopey grin?”

 

“Nothing.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and gave it a small squeeze.

 

“So, Scotty. How was the ‘conference’?” Stiles laughed bringing up the three days Scott just spent in Milwaukee for a seminar on North American animals.

 

“Cold, Stiles. It snowed. Twice! Oh and badgers are evil animals. I am pretty sure one of them wanted to eat me. You know it’s sad when I’d rather stick with bears instead of rodents.”

 

Stiles swallowed a bite of salad. “Um, I’m pretty sure they’re just big weasels.”

 

“Figure of speech, Stiles.” Scott groaned. “ _I'm_ the zookeeper. I know what family they belong to.”

 

Just like John had predicted, the entrees arrived in less than five minutes, and Stephen helped himself to a more than generous portion of mac-n-cheese.

 

“Are you going to eat all that, Buddy?” Derek shook his head at the mountain of cheesy pasta on his son’s plate.

 

“Just you watch.”

 

“Stiles, just curious, and hear me out,” Derek started,” but are you and Stevie training to be competitive eaters while I’m not around?”

 

“What?”

 

He pointed to Stephen, who had already scarfed down half of the food on his plate. “I’m not even sure he’s chewing it.”

 

“Maybe he’s training on his own.”

 

“Nice try, Babe. I’ve seen you eat pizza.”

 

“Touché.”

 

“Hey, Stevie, how about you slow down? You don’t want a tummy ache.”

 

Stephen rolled his eyes at him. “Fine.”

 

Derek couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued to eat his own dinner, one comprised of sensible portions, thank-you very much. He was getting older after all. A week ago, he found his first gray hair; a minor existential crisis ensued, one which ended with Stiles offering to go buy him a box of Just for Men hair dye. Derek refused the offer, as nice as it was, but woke up to a handmade card on his nightstand the next morning saying how Stiles wouldn’t care if all his hair turned gray, he’d still be hot. Derek figured his little freak out over the one hair might have been overkill.

 

Once everyone had their fill of pasta, Derek put in the dessert order, making sure that to select a personal sized chocolate lava cake for Stiles. He tried to dissuade Melissa from having the servers sing to Stiles to no avail. As the group of five people came over with a lit birthday candle, he watched Stiles’ face turn bright red.

 

“Tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri Stiles, tanti auguri Stiles, tanti auguri a te.” They all sang in unison while Derek and the rest of the family sang along in English.

 

Cheeks puffed out, Stiles extinguished the candle and feigned anger with Melissa. “Just for that, you don’t get any cake.” He chuckled. “I’m just kidding, Mel. Thanks everyone.”

 

“But Tatuś, you need to open your presents before cake! Mine is the best one. You’ll see, just wait.”

 

Derek snagged a spoonful of his son’s cheesecake. He might have eaten carefully thought out portions of pasta and double portions of salad, but he could not, nor had he ever been able to, say no to sweets. They were his weakness.

 

“Hey! That’s my cake, Daddy.”

 

“Yeah, D. Eat your own cake,” Stiles scolded him.

 

Derek turned to Stephen. “I’m tasting it. You know checking for poison. Dangerous pirates such as yourself, Mr. Bones, have a lot of enemies.”

 

“I’m not Mr. Bones anymore, Daddy. Pirates were a summer thing.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at him. “Were they? What are you now?”

 

Without stopping to swallow the food in his mouth, Stephen replied, “Robot. Name’s SA-3000.”

 

“I see,” Derek said between bites of sfogliatella, “and what does SA-3000 do?”

 

“Well he’s super awesome. Get it, Daddy? SA?” Stephen gesticulated wildly as he explained the numerous technological qualities he had as a robot. “And oh, oh, oh SA-3000 can turn into a boat and sail away!”

 

“I see. And what is Amy then?”

 

“Princess Crushanaut.”

 

Stiles choked on a bite of cake. “Crushanaut, eh?”

 

“Oh yeah. She helps rid the world of trash by crushing it into teeny, tiny, little squares that become Legos. And plus, she’s a princess.”

 

Derek looked down the table to see John laughing so hard, trying to keep from making any noise, that the man was turning red. His shoulders shook, and Derek was quite certain he could see tears in his eyes. “Well, how lucky we are to have SA-3000 and Princess Crushanaut to save the day.”

 

Stephen pointed his spoon at him. “Exactly. That’s what I tried telling Mr. Gutierrez. I don’t think he understands how cool robots are.”

 

When everyone had finished their dessert, Stephen took it upon himself to pass out presents. “Here you go, Tatuś. Open mine first.” He handed him the box, inexpertly wrapped in brown paper stamped with butterflies. “I decorated the paper and wrapped it myself.”

 

“It looks great.” Stiles’ fingers pulled away the paper. He smiled at the mosaic picture frame and matching pen cup. The picture in the frame was the best part though. The picture  the three of them from his father’s wedding stared back at him.

 

“Do you like them? I made them myself.”

 

Stiles gave Stephen a hug. “They’re beautiful.”

 

“They’re for your desk at work.”

 

“And they will look really nice there. Thank you.”

 

Next came Scott and Kira’s present...a Batman tie.

 

“I hope you can wear that to work. I didn’t know how strict the dress code was.” Scott laughed.

 

“It’s a tie, and it’s inoffensive. Plus, it’s a superhero, and I work with children. It will be a hit.” Stiles pulled back the tissue paper to reveal the rest of the present. “Nice t-shirt, Man.” He proudly displayed the Joker t-shirt to the rest of the table.

 

“Kiki picked that one.”

 

“Did she now?”

 

“Oh yes, she has great fashion sense for a four-month-old. Just look at her leggings.” Scott pointed to his daughter. “Future trendsetter.”

 

Melissa passed down the gift from her and John. “I hope you don’t have any of these.”

 

“Games?” He asked, opening the present.

 

“That game there, Love Letter, is easy to travel with, but the rest are travel sized games. We checked to make sure the 7-1 set includes chess.” He father gestured to the leather bound game.

 

“Travel games? Want me out of your hair, Dad?”

 

He chuckled. “Not exactly.”

 

Derek handed him an envelope.

 

“Did you...make this yourself, D?” Stiles chuckled at the attempt at a fancy envelope.

 

“Yes,” he grumbled, “well Stevie tried to help. I’ve told you many times...I can’t do art.”

 

Sure it was a gift certificate for a massage or something similar (Derek, well the man was a big fan of the things. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest), Stiles prolonged the suspense and took his sweet time opening the paper. He soon figured out that, no, it was not, in fact, a massage but a pair of plane tickets. “You… you’re taking me to New York?” He was damn near speechless. “For my birthday? You do remember I’m turning twenty-six right? Not thirty or some big important number?”

 

“Yep. We need a vacation, and you’ve had a rough year. More than overdue for a trip away.”

 

Stiles grinned, taking Derek’s face in his hands to kiss him. “Thank you. I am seriously, super excited. I had just planned to have a week off work, but a week off work to go on a trip is way better.”

 

Derek smirked, knowing his boyfriend didn’t understand just how much better the trip would be.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 


	4. Please Keep Your Tray Tables in Their Upright and Locked Position

“You make sure you take lots of pictures, Daddy,” Stephen said, hugging him tightly. “And don’t have too much fun without me.”

 

Derek laughed. “We’ll try not to, Buddy.”

 

Stephen beckoned him down to his level so he could whisper in his father’s ear. “When you and Tatuś come back, can we go celebrate?”

 

“Sure thing.” He didn’t have the heart to tell him if Stiles accepted, not that Derek doubted he would, but he didn’t want to count his chickens ahead of time.

 

Stephen wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. “Good luck, Daddy.” Then, he turned his attention to Stiles. “Have lots of fun, Tatuś. There are so many lights in New York. Did you know I was born there? Did Daddy ever tell you that?”

 

“He did, Iskiereczko mała.” He kissed the top of Stephen’s head. “Be good.”

 

“I will. I will be a real good boy, just watch.”

 

Derek chuckled and handed Melissa an envelope. “So that is temporary medical proxy and power of attorney, you know...just in case. He has a therapy appointment at two tomorrow. I already called the school and let them know one of you would be picking him up. If you can’t, call Erica, and she can take him to his appointment.”

 

“Therapy? I thought he was finished with that.”

 

Derek leaned forward so Stephen couldn’t hear him. “He’s had a few nightmares in the last week. It’s more of a maintenance appointment. Erica will be by tomorrow morning at 07:30 to take him to school. Normally, he takes his lunch, but they are having a pizza party tomorrow. I put his money for lunch in the front pouch of his backpack. Um…” He wracked his brain trying to think of anything he missed. “Oh, if he forgot anything at home, there is a house key in his backpack. There’s a little keyring on the inside of the main pouch. If you take him to do anything fun, he’ll insist on paying for it. He’ll be adamant. Just tell him it’s five dollars, whatever it is, and I put a hundred in that envelope to pay for everything else.”

 

Stiles rubbed his shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

 

“Yeah, of course. I know that. Just covering all bases.”

 

“Well we need to get going.” They said their goodbyes and went to stand in line for security.

 

*   *   *   *   *  

 

“I can’t believe they lost my Skycap reservation.” Derek grumbled as they rode the elevator up to their room at the Michelangelo Hotel

 

Stiles squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I managed.”

 

“I know, but you shouldn’t have had to. That’s why they have them. And don’t think I can’t tell your leg is killing you.”

 

Stiles changed the subject. “So...that was the first time I’ve ever flown anything other than economy class.”

 

“Yeah?” He asked raising an eyebrow at him. “And?”

 

“Awesome. I think you’ve spoiled my for flying anything other than business class for the rest of my life.”

 

Derek kissed his knuckles. “This was a special occasion, Babe.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

The elevator dinged signalling their floor, and the pair sauntered down the hall. “So, I hope you like the view,” Derek said as he slid the keycard into the lock and opened the door for his boyfriend.

 

“Wow.” Stiles was nearly speechless as he walked over to the window, face pressed against the glass, the lights of Times Square clearly visible and reflecting on his face. “This is-” He turned around and stared at Derek, his face beaming. Even his eyes had taken on a childlike wonder. He shuffled forward and took Derek’s face in his hands. “The view is incredible.”

 

“So we missed our dinner reservations, because of that whole mix-up.”

 

“Where we supposed to eat?”

 

Derek sighed. “Churrascaria Plataforma. It’s like six blocks away. So much meat...all you can eat.” He could practically feel himself drooling. “Fuck, just thinking about it makes me feel like Homer Simpson.”

 

Stiles frowned. “Bummer. That sounds delicious.”

 

“Tell me about it. Number one Brazilian steakhouse in the country, and we missed it. That being said, I’m starving. I know somewhere else we can go. I think you’ll like it. Within easy walking distance. Just let me change my shirt.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Stiles took another too-large bite of his burger. “Screw number one churrascaria in the country. This place is great. Singing waitstaff, diner food, milkshakes- what’s not to like?” He pushed his glass forward to clink against Derek’s. “To vacation.”

 

“To vacation.”

 

He eyed Derek’s meatball sandwich. “That looks amazing.”

 

“You wanna try?”

 

Stiles looked at him as though to say, ‘Do you really have to ask’ and enjoyed the proffered bite. “Oh my god.” He crooked his index finger at Derek and beckoned him closer. Leaning across the table, he gave him a playful peck on the lips. He grinned. “Oh man. I love this song.”

 

Derek found himself chuckling as Stiles sang along to the servers’ rendition of “You’re the One that I Want,” a fond expression on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“Shut up, Baby. I know it.” He heard Derek mutter something under his breath. “What was that?”

 

He smirked. “Stupid anti-pimping laws.”

 

“Have I told you lately how much I love that you get my geeky pop-culture references?”

 

Derek stole the cherry from Stiles’ milkshake. “Not lately.” He popped the fruit into his mouth, stem and all..

 

“Well screw that now. I don’t waste such words on fruit thieves.” When Derek pulled out the stem, perfectly tied and set it on his napkin, Stiles choked on a french fry. “Now that, that I love. You know,” he said, shovelling a spoonful of milkshake into his mouth, “for someone who really doesn’t like talking much,  you sure have a talented tongue.”

 

“I know.” Derek flashed his eyebrows at him. God it felt great to be on vacation. He watched Stiles continue to sing along, the man completely ignoring the fact he could not sing to save his life, and Derek felt his heart stutter, sure that he had the most enamored look on his face.

 

“What?” Stiles asked after he finally noticed Derek staring at him.

 

“What do you mean what?”

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Derek shook his head to clear the lovestruck cobwebs from his mind and leaned across the table to kiss Stiles in much the same way the man had done earlier. Though, instead of a quick little kiss, Derek’s lips lingered at Stiles’. “Nothing. Just- I love you. That’s all.” He patted the space next to him in the booth. “Want to sit over here and watch with me?” When Stiles obliged, Derek slung his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

 

“Oh this is much nicer.” Stiles snuggled in closer to Derek’s side, and they continued to take in the entertainment in companionable silence with the occasional flirty bit of banter thrown in.

  
  
  


*   *   *   *   *

 

Stiles drew a finger down Derek’s arm where it rested on the side of the tub and yawned. “We need a tub like this. I had no idea what I was missing.” He intertwined his fingers with Derek’s under the water.

 

“You don’t even use our tub at home.”

 

“You don’t either. And you know why? Because the damn thing is too short. Not very relaxing or therapeutic if my knees stick out of the water just so I fit in it.” From where he rested his head against Derek’s chest, he could feel the low rumble of laughter reverberate. “Besides, if this was a possibility at home, you can bet that gorgeous ass of yours that I would use the tub more often.

 

Derek wrapped both arms around Stiles’ chest, holding him tightly against his own. “I could get behind that idea.”

 

“See. I was right.”

 

Derek planted kisses on the hinge of Stiles’ jaw, his ear, his shoulder, and while he nuzzled at Stiles neck, Derek’s hand dropped lower to palm him a few times beneath the water.

 

“Unph,” Stiles groaned, letting his head loll back onto Derek’s shoulder. “As fantastic as that feels, I would like to point out that sex in the water is not as much fun as it sounds..”

 

Derek nipped at his earlobe. “Who said anything about sex? This is foreplay.”

 

Stiles turned in his arms to face him. “Oh really.” He wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist so he practically sat in his lap and took Derek’s face in his hands, kissing him deeply, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “I like your thinking. We should definitely do more of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polish used in chapter: Iskiereczko mała- little spark


	5. That Is a Frivolous Sports Souvenir and You know It

Freshly showered, Derek ran the towel over his wet hair as he stepped back into the room. He yawned; they’d had a late night the night before, staying out way too late at a gay bar over in Hell’s Kitchen. And by late, he meant they stumbled into their hotel room around 04:30 last night, both more than a little buzzed. They’d had a good time though. Night clubs weren’t a thing they did on a regular basis, but every once in a while he and Stiles would visit The Jungle back home, where Stiles was like catnip to the drag queens. It turned out, it was the same in New York. Though it was all in good fun, Derek could see it grate on Stiles’ nerves that he had apparently still had that overall ‘twink’ look. As Stiles pointed out, he was twenty-six and in a committed relationship where he co-parented a seven-year-old. He was not a twink.

 

Derek let out a soft chuckle, and downed a bottle of water, taking in the scene in front of him. While he showered, Stiles had rolled onto his stomach in bed as he slept. Derek stared at the expanse of bare and pale skin of Stiles’ back. Derek crawled onto the bed next to him, peppering his shoulders with soft kisses.

 

He loved what swimming had done to Stiles’ arms, shoulders and back, filling them out, and toning them. His boyfriend had never been all that muscular, and Derek found his newly bulkier frame irresistible.

 

“Mmm. Good morning, Kochanie,” Stiles grumbled half into his pillow, a sleepy smile working its way across his face. “Fuck, you look good. How do you look that good with only,” he looked at the clock on the nightstand, “six hours of sleep?”

 

Settling into the plush pillows, Derek brushed the hair from Stiles’ forehead. “Nah, it’s only four and a half hours. Had to get in my morning run.”

 

“Only you would keep up your fitness routine while on vacation. You definitely look too good for four hours of sleep. Not fair.”

 

“Time to get up. There’s free breakfast downstairs.”

 

Stiles burrowed deeper into the blankets. “Don’ wanna.”

 

“But if we don’t get going we’ll be late for something I have planned today.” He kissed Stiles’ forehead.

 

“But vacation is for relaxing,” Stiles whined. “Plus, I’m hungover.”

 

“You are?”

 

Stiles made the hand gesture for a little bit. “Just a smidge.”

 

“Well, a shower will do you good, and then breakfast. Come on, I’ll sit in there and make sure you don’t fall, because I was a bonehead and forgot to request an ADA room. Otherwise there’d be a seat for you.” He pulled Stiles up from the bed, his hands coming to settle at Stiles’ waist. “Today is a busy day.”

 

“Why? What are we going to do?”

 

He captured Stiles’ lips in a kiss. “It’s a surprise. Now go.”

 

Begrudgingly, Stiles shuffled off to the bathroom, and Derek waited until he heard Stiles’ electric razor turn on before getting dressed. Decked out in his best jeans and favorite black sweater, one that fit perfectly and had been worn-in in all the right ways, Derek dug through his suitcase. Buried at the bottom and folded into a pair of socks, he plucked the metal business card holder from the bundle. Knowing a bulky ring box would be impossible to hide, he’d rigged his card case for work to hold the ring by cutting a piece of foam to size, making a hole in the middle to secure the ring. He hurried over to the closet and slipped the case into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and not a moment too soon either, as he heard the razor click off and the shower turn on a moment later.

 

He opened the bathroom door and stood at the counter to fix his hair. “Doing okay in there?”

 

“Hot water and hangovers do not mix, but yeah, I’m good.”

 

“Don’t take too long to get ready. I promised Stevie we’d face time him this morning, because we didn’t have time last night.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m hurrying. Go on, get ready. My leg’s fine.” Stiles stuck a hand outside the shower curtain to shoo him away.

 

Derek laughed as he left the room, busying himself with picking up the room. A sock here, a shoe there- okay, so they were in quite the hurry to fall into bed last night and into each other’s embrace. Dancing, drinking, and openly flirting most of the night could do that to a person. When he’d folded the dirty clothes, tucking them into the complimentary plastic bag the hotel provided for laundry, and wedged them into his suitcase, he turned his attention to the desk where Stiles had lain the bag of souvenirs he insisted they purchase from the Empire State Building. He smiled at the memory of Stiles looking out from the observation deck, his cheeks pink from the cool evening air...

 

… _“Oh my, God! Yes! Yes!” A woman called out from the other side of the deck._

_Both Stiles and Derek looked over to see a man down on one knee holding out a ring, the woman standing in front of him beaming. Stiles turned his head into Derek’s neck. “Such a cliche. If I ever in a moment of insanity decide that I should propose to you via jumbotron, major tourist attraction or landmark- especially if this is in front of the Bellagio Fountains, or the beach, I want you to smack me upside the head. Where’s the creativity?”_

_Derek felt a lump rise in his throat. Did the Met count as a major tourist attraction? He was pretty sure it did, but his idea had to be more than just a cliche. There was a genuine reason for his choice. “Just for clarification so I don’t smack you in error, what do you consider major tourist attraction?”_

_“Well where we’re standing for one. Um, Space Needle, Eiffel Tower, **anywhere** in Vegas, Venice, the Hollywood sign. You know that sort of thing.”_

_“Ah, so basically towers of any kind will require me to smack you. Can it be a metaphorical smack, a verbal one perhaps?”_

_Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes. That will do just fine.”_

_The lump hadn’t abated, but Derek had no intentions of changing his plan, especially because Stiles’ more in-depth explanation did little to clear things up for Derek…_

_.._.After a few hours that feeling he’d only disappoint Stiles with a lackluster proposal wore off. Derek was more sure than ever of his plan.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

When a familiar tone rang out, Stephen hopped off the couch and ran over his father’s Ipad which sat plugged into the charger. He hurried to answer the call before it disconnected. He carried it back to the living room where he’d been watching cartoons with Melissa. Soon Derek and Stiles’ faces came into view. “Hi, Daddy. Hi, Tatuś. Are you having lots and lots and lots of fun?”

 

On the screen, Derek chuckled. “Sure are buddy. You know what we did yesterday?”

 

“Nu-uh.”

 

“We went to the Empire State Building.”

 

“Wow! Was it really, really high like it is in the movies?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You should take me to visit sometime, Daddy. Why haven’t we gone back to New York since I was little?”

 

Derek smiled. “You’re still little, Buddy.”

 

“Duh, Daddy. I meant littler. Hey, Tatuś, did you see all the lights? Aren’t they bright? Like daytime bright.”

 

“They are. We can see them from our hotel. It’s very neat.”

 

Stephen sat the tablet down on the couch and took another bite of his cereal. “So what are you and Daddy doing today?”

 

“No idea. He says it’s a surprise.”

 

“Oh.” Oh. Stephen tried to hide his smile. He knew exactly what the surprise was, but he also knew he couldn’t say anything.

 

“What’s that smile for? Do you knew where we’re going?” Stiles asked.

 

“No. I just really like surprises.”

 

“Well, you be good for Melissa today, and we’ll see you tomorrow.” Derek said with a wave.

 

“Bye, Daddy. Bye, Tatuś. I love you.”

 

“Love you too, Buddy,” both Derek and Stiles replied in unison and ended the call.

 

“So, Grandma” Stephen said as he finished his cereal, “what are we doing today?”

 

Melissa smiled, still quite surprised he’d taken to calling her that instead of Miss Melissa. Hell, even last night at dinner, he’d called John ‘Grandpa’, seemingly abandoning his usual address of ‘Mr. Slinski’. “You, me, Aunties Kira and Erica are all going shopping, and then I think we’re going to get our nails done.”

 

Stephen’s face lit up. “Can I get my nails painted too? Auntie Erica usually paints them, but I’ve never gone to a grown-up place to get them painted.”

 

“Of course. Now, how about you go get dressed?”

 

Stephen jumped up from his seat and bounded up the stairs. In Stiles’ old bedroom he dug through his bag for the perfect clothes for the day, settling on a navy blue dress with a butterfly print, a pink cardigan and matching leggings. Headband in place and mary janes on his feet, he scampered down the stairs, his American Girl, well boy, doll in tow. “Okay. I’m ready. Alex is coming too.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Stiles stood on the grass at Citi Field, taking everything in. When Derek said he had a surprise, he never imagined it would be to tour the stadium where his beloved Mets played. Who knew they gave tours in November? Stiles sure didn’t. They had perfect weather for the day too. Chilly for him, yes, but no snow or rain, and that meant he got to stand on the field where some of his favorites played. If only it were Shea Stadium, then he’d probably be in total awe.

 

Not that he cared all that much, because this, this was awesome.

 

Their tour group only had about ten people in it, which was great, because it meant less people around to get in the way of any pictures they took. “Hey Derek, get a picture of me in the dugout.”

 

Derek chuckled. His boyfriend was like a kid in a candy store right now, ADHD in full swing as he moved about the tour, unable to stay still because he was so excited. He snapped the photo , and then asked if one of the other people in the group could take their picture. He sat down on the bench next to Stiles and threw an arm around his shoulders to wait for the shutter click.

 

He had made sure to fulfill Stephen’s request to the best of his ability, and had been taking as many photos as possible, making sure to get a couple shot at every destination they went. He knew, just knew that should the day end the way he hoped it would, that Stiles would want pictures like that.

 

The tour was just about to move on, but Stiles grabbed his hand to hold him back.

 

“This has been the best vacation,” he said, stealing a kiss. “Though I still maintain, it is above and beyond a twenty-sixth birthday present. You had to have spent a fortune on this trip.”

 

“No, I got a lot of great deals.” Lie, total lie. A small fortune had indeed been spent. Derek, had he let himself have any kind of luxury before he met Stiles, might have been inclined to show some restraint. But he’d spent all of his time and money on Stephen. Putting only as much money as necessary into his wardrobe, and even then, most of it had been spent on clothes for work. He still drove the same Camaro he’d driven in college, knowing full well the thing was getting up there, way up there in miles, and would need replacing soon.

 

It was just, Stiles made him feel like he deserved more nice things than he’d ever allowed himself.

 

Warm hands caressed his cheek. “Hey there...lost you for a second.”

 

Derek felt a flush creep up his neck and across his face. “Oh. Yeah, I’m good. You’re right. This has been a great vacation so far.”

 

Stiles took his hand so they could catch up to the group. “Have no idea how anything will top this tour though.”

 

Derek smirked. He could think of at least one way.

 

An hour later, after the tour has completed, Derek was ready to leave and head to their next adventure (Okay, so maybe the ring was burning a hole in his pocket, and his stomach happened to be churning itself into knots. Stiles was a perceptive guy; he was bound to notice something up with Derek eventually). However, his boyfriend was currently going a bit crazy in the gift shop. “Babe, you know it’s probably cheaper to buy this stuff online, right? The sales tax in New York City is higher than at home.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That’s not the same. I visited Citi Field. These are souvenirs. They can’t be bought online.” He groaned, his arms laden with goods, including, but not limited to: a David Wright jersey, two different t-shirts, a travel mug, a sandwich container, and oh hell, beer bottle cozies. Really, Stiles? When he watched his boyfriend grab a particularly large box from the shelf, he realized he had to put a stop to the madness. “Stiles, we already have a toaster.”

 

“But, Derek, you don’t understand! Look! It toasts the Mets logo.”

 

Derek grabbed the box from him and studied the thing hard. “Stiles, it doesn’t even toast the full piece of bread.”

 

“But Derrrrrekkk,” he whined, “the logo.”

 

Derek sighed. “It won’t fit in your suitcase.”

 

“Well it will if I jam pack my carry-on. Don’t worry, I shall carry all this stuff on the subway with no complaints.”

 

“With all that stuff, you look like a tourist.”

 

“Well, I am a tourist.”

 

“Trust me. On the subway, you don’t want to look like one. We’ll take a taxi.”

 

“Oh no. I am not leaving New York without riding the subway.”

 

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re from California. How many times have you ridden the subway in Los Angeles?”

 

“That’s not the point, Derek.”

 

Derek threw up his hands and walked out the gift shop. Ten minutes later, Stiles came out, arms conspicuously free of said toaster. Derek arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“I thought about what you said, and that toaster was pretty frivolous wasn’t it?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And I really don’t want to get mugged, but I really want to take the subway.”

 

Derek threw an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. Let’s go then. We’ll need to take the 7 back to the hotel to drop that stuff off. Hungry?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good. We’re getting pizza at Rubirosa.”

 

“Oh, before I forget. I got you a jersey too.” He pulled his purchase from the bag and held it up to Derek’s chest. “Should fit perfectly.”

 

“Did you forget I’m a Giants fan?”

 

“Absolutely not, but I’m persistent. I will convert you yet. Just you watch.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Stephen giggled at Melissa. “Grandma, your legs are all green. You look like the swamp monster.”

 

“Oh gee thanks, Stevie.”

 

He slurped on the straw of his bubble tea, chewing one of the boba pearls before swallowing. “Well, it’s the truth. What is that stuff anyway?”

 

“It’s a mud mask. It’s good for your skin.”

 

“If mud is good for your skin, why does Daddy make me take a shower when I get all muddy?”

 

From the chair on the other side of him, Erica laughed. “Because he’s a neat freak.”

 

He dug in his purse. “What’s a neat freak?”

 

“He cleans a lot and hates a messy house.”

 

“Oh,” Stephen finally found and plucked a pack of small markers from his purse, setting his doll on his lap, “well he has bad allergies. He has to keep the house clean or he sneezes a lot.” He popped the cap on the pink washable marker and began to color the doll’s toenails.

 

“Whatcha doing, Stevie?” Kira leaned forward so she could see around her mother-in-law.

 

“I’m giving Alex a petty tour too.”

 

“You mean pedicure?”

 

“Uh yeah, I guess. Look, now his nails are pretty too.” He looked down and watched the woman painting his toes a similar shade of pink. “Just like mine. Hey, Grandma?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Why can’t I have the green stuff on my legs?”

 

“Well, it’s only for grown-ups. You got the lotion on your legs.”

 

“That’s not as cool as turning into a swamp monster.” He growled, pretending to be a monster. “See? I’m a much better monster than you are.”

 

The three ladies burst into laughter.

 

“How do you think Derek’s doing right now?” Kira asked Erica.

 

“Well,” she said looking at her watch, “they should be at lunch now, and pending on Derek a) not jumping the gun, and b)not puking from nerves, he should be doing just fine.”

 

“Auntie Erica, why would Daddy get sick?”

 

“He’s nervous.”

 

“Why?”

 

“When people ask someone to marry them, they get nervous.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They worry about things going wrong, screwing up the question, the other person saying no.”

 

“Now you’re just being silly. Tatuś would never say no.”

 

“You sound so sure.” Erica smirked.

 

“Well I am sure. You don’t see them at home, always hugging, holding hands, making silly faces at each other.”

 

“Silly faces?”

 

“Duh, Grandma. Like this.” He demonstrated his best attempt at heart-eyes. “See? Tatuś loves Daddy, and they’re gonna get married, and then I can have a baby sister.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Or maybe two baby sisters, and a baby brother, and...a pet bunny.”

 

“You want a pet rabbit?”

 

“Yes. I will call him Hopscotch. Mr. Allen’s class has a pet rabbit. His name is Tito. That is a stupid name for a bunny, but he’s a much cooler class pet than Marbles is.”

 

“Who is Marbles?”

 

“Auntie Kira, Marbles is our class pet. She’s a gecko, and she is not very fun. Tito gets to jump around the class sometimes. Marbles has to stay in her cage. She’s boring. When it was my turn last month to take her home for the weekend, she hid in her fake log the whole time. Sooooooo boring.” He pretended to die of boredom, before sitting upright quickly. “Hey, what are we doing after this?”

 

“We’re going to go home and pick up Grandpa, Uncle Scott, and Kiki. Then we’re all going to dinner.”

 

“Is Auntie Erica coming?”

 

“Sorry, Buddy,” she reached over and messed up his hair.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Uncle Boyd and I have a date, but you’ll have tons of fun without us.”

 

“Fun? Where are we going to dinner, Grandma? Is it Chuck E. Cheese? It is, isn’t it?”

 

Melissa stared at him, trying to figure out how he guessed that quickly. “How did you know?”

 

“Well, because it’s fun and it’s dinner.” The look he gave her seemed to say ‘How could anyone not figure that out?’ “Oh my gosh. It’s gonna be so fun. Grandpa and I can play Skee-Ball. I’m gonna win.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Yep. I get to play real baseball this year, not just tee-ball. I’m gonna be really good, you’ll see. If I practice a lot, I can grow up to be a baseball player. That's what I want to be when I grow up.”

 

The woman painting his nails looked up, clearly trying to decide whether or not to say anything. Since he’d grown his hair out a little, wearing it a bit shaggier than he usually did--Stiles had called it a skater cut, whatever that was--Melissa had heard more comments than usual referring to Stephen as a girl. To be honest, she’d never seen that haircut on a little girl, and she could only hope the woman chose to remain silent.

 

But as the Rolling Stones said, ‘You can’t always get what you want.’

 

“You know girls don’t play professional baseball right?”

 

Stephen pulled off the straw of his tea. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a girl.”

 

This admission caused blatant confusion, not the malicious kind, just genuine uninformed confusion. “But your dress…”

 

“Do you like it?” His eyes brightened. “It’s one of my favorites. I bought it myself.”

 

Seeing his obvious pride in the garment, she decided against her previous statement rather than hurt a child’s feelings. “It’s very pretty.”

 

“Thank you. See, Grandma? She likes my dress. Hey, do you think I could beat Grandpa at air hockey too?”

 

Melissa laughed at his change of topic like it was nothing. How very Stiles-like of him.

 


	6. Best Vacation Ever

Four hours ago, Stiles practically dragged Derek up the stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, giddy like a little kid with cries of, “You didn’t! I can’t believe you remembered how much I wanted to see this place.” He then proceeded to pull Derek into the nearest, yet darkest corner and kissed him senseless for ten minutes. Totally inappropriate of him (No it wasn’t; It was awesome).

 

Every gallery had upped his excitement level, and Derek thought he was a bit overstimulated the way Stephen often got at the zoo.

 

“This way, Derek.” Stiles linked arms with Derek and led him towards gallery 130. “Ooh sarcophagi.”

 

Stiles stopped to peer into the display cases of each piece of art.

 

Before they’d left their hotel room after dropping off Stiles’ haul from Citi Field, Derek pulled a blank sketch book from the bottom of his suitcase, complete with Stiles’ envelope of pencils. Knowing how special this visit would be to his boyfriend, he wanted to make sure Stiles’ could draw any of the pieces he wanted, though he managed to keep them a surprise, tucked away in a plastic bag until they exited the subway station.

 

As it was, they’d spent an hour alone, with Stiles camped out on the floor in gallery 548 in front of Canova’s _Perseus with the head of Medusa,_ drawing it from every angle. He’d watched him take at least a hundred photos of it, sure that Stiles would draw it in more detail when they returned home.

 

They hadn’t even made it upstairs yet, and it was approaching seven. The museum was only open for two more hours. They had to get to gallery 611 or his plan would fall apart.

 

“Hey Babe, let’s go upstairs. I really want to look at the Asian Art galleries. Plus Washington Crossing the Delaware is in gallery 760.”

 

That caught his attention. “Oh man, I love that painting.” As they stood waiting for the elevators, He curled into Derek’s chest. “This has been one of the best days of my life, D. I’m not kidding. First Citi Field and now this,” he gestured to the art around him. “You’re amazing. You know that? Best vacation ever.” He leaned forward and captured Derek’s lips in a soft kiss. “I love you.”

 

Derek smiled. “I know. Love you too.” When they stepped onto the second floor, Derek made sure to steer Stiles towards Asian Art and the galleries in the 200’s.

 

“No, let’s go this way first.”

 

“I promise, I’ll keep us on task. Let’s save that stuff for last.”

 

“Wow,” Stiles said near breathless when they  walked into the Chinese Courtyard. “This is so neat, the way they’ve made it look like you’re outside.” They continued on through a few of the galleries.

 

“Would you like a drink? They have a bar on this floor, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to sit for a little bit.”

 

They found an available table and waited for a server. “Great idea, Kochanie. I didn’t even notice how sore my leg was until I sat down. I think after our drink, I will be good to go back to the hotel. I’ve had my fill of art.”

 

What? No. That was not going to happen. No, no, no. “There is one more gallery on this floor that I don’t think we can leave without seeing. I think you’d really be missing out if we did. It’s on the West side of the museum.”

 

“Care to fill me in?”

 

“It’s a painting gallery. So mezze plate? How’s that sound?”

 

“Mmm, and maybe the strawberries.”

 

“Sounds good. Hey, want to split a carafe of the Tempranillo with me?”

 

“Yeah, nope. I will be having a Manhattan, because someone got me hooked on them, they’re delicious and why not?”

 

Derek blushed, dipping his chin to hide the flush in his cheeks.

 

“You’re adorable.” He reached across the table to caress Derek’s cheek. “Seriously adorable.”

 

“Stop it.” Derek tried to convey seriousness with his tone, but judging but the chuckle Stiles sent his way, the man had caught onto his front.

 

When their appetizer arrived, Stiles plucked an olive from the platter and popped it into his mouth. “So this gallery you are dying to see? Will I like it?”

 

“Babe, has there been one we’ve looked at today that you haven’t?”

 

Stiles nodded as he considered Derek’s question. “Good point. Though we haven’t seen any modern art yet.”

 

“Ah well that would be the 900’s. Don’t think we’ll have time for those.”

 

“How,” he started as he finished chewing his bite of poppadum, “do you know that? Spend lots of time memorizing the map of this place just so you could impress me?”

 

Derek took a sip of wine, swishing it around in his mouth. “No, we had a membership, Laura and I did. It was a nice way to spend an evening, and NYU is not that far away, maybe a half hour transit ride and about the same time from our apartment to here.”

 

“You should have showed me where you used to live.”

 

“You willingly want to venture outside Manhattan and visit Astoria and look at all the insanely overpriced apartments?”

 

Another olive went into Stiles’ mouth. “Uh huh. And where’s Astoria?”

 

“Queens.”

 

“Remind me again how long you lived here.”

 

“Seven years.”

 

“And you couldn’t pick up a little accent?”

 

Derek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Who says I didn’t and returning to California lost it?”

 

“No! And I missed it?”

 

“Why does that bother you?”

 

“Because I could have added to my, ‘you remind me of Bruce Wayne’ fantasy.”

 

Derek shook his head. “You are impossible sometimes. You know that?”

 

“Yeah, but you love me.”

 

He kissed Stiles’ knuckles. “Yeah, I do.” _God, you have no idea how much I do._

 

They finished up their snack and drinks with twenty minutes until museum staff started clearing out the galleries. They needed to go now.

 

“Come on.” Derek began to walk with purpose towards the West side of the museum.

 

“Hold up. What’s the rush?”

 

“I really don’t want to run out of time.”

 

“Yeah, but you forget…”

 

When Stiles didn’t finish his train of thought, Derek looked over his shoulder to see his boyfriend struggling to keep up. _Oh._ He felt like a bit of an ass. So he stopped and waited for Stiles to catch up, before crouching a little.

 

“What are you-”

 

“Hop on.”

 

“Hmm, I would, but this is not the place for that.” Stiles giggled at his joke.

 

“I meant onto my back.”

 

“You’re going to give me a piggyback ride? We are too old for that. Look, if we don’t get to see that gallery, then we don’t get to see the gallery. The day won’t be ruined if we miss it.”

 

_Yes, it will._ “That is the one thing I wanted to see today. We are not missing it.” With great reluctance, Stiles let Derek carry him the rest of the way. When Derek stopped just outside the mercifully empty gallery (empty except for a member of museum staff, he set Stiles down carefully, making sure he was steady on his good leg before letting go of his waist. He kissed his nose. “I’m sorry. I was excited, and I didn’t realize.”

 

Stiles waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what did you want to see?”

 

Derek glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. God, he hoped he had enough time. “Come here.” He moved Stiles in front of him and covered his eyes with his hands.

 

“What…”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Of course, but I-”

 

“Then close your eyes and start walking forward. I’ll make sure you don’t run into anything. I promise.” Once Stiles complied, Derek used his free hand to pull the ring from his jacket and led him into gallery 611, where they stopped in front of _View of Toledo_.

 

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

 

“No. Just wait a second.” Derek hurried over to the staff member, and in hushed tones, very hushed tones, asked for his help. When the man graciously agreed, Derek gave him a quick run through of how to operate the small digital SLR Kira had lent them. Derek, more than familiar with the ‘no filming’ rule of the museum, set the camera to continuous shutter. He set his phone to voice record and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket, leaving the speaker sticking out.

 

“Okay, you can open them.”

 

The sharp intake of breath, an audible gasp, echoed through the room. “Derek...how did you...who told you-”

 

Stiles’ words cut off, and Derek felt for sure he could hear tears in his boyfriend’s voice. Stiles shuffled forward, coming as close to the painting as the cable on the floor would allow. For a brief moment, he reached out his hand before pulling it back. “I know you can damage a painting by touching it, but… it sort of feels like if I did, you know, touch it, then I would feel closer to my mom than I have since she died. This was her favorite painting. She said she loved the way the darkness of the painting looked like a storm was rolling in, how the shadows and highlights made it seem that once that clouds burst, that she would be able to feel the droplets of rain on her skin, to taste the moisture in the air, and- I can’t believe I’m actually looking at it in person.”

 

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, hugging him from behind. “I talked to your dad, asked him about your favorite painting. He said he didn’t know yours, but he knew hers, knew that you loved it because it was her favorite.” Glancing over Stiles’ shoulder, Derek saw him wipe his eyes.

 

“I take back what I said this morning. This is so much better than Citi Field.”

 

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing he was running out of time. _Now or never, or perhaps next week when there are no time constraints._ He took a deep breath. “You know, I thought about what I would say when I did this hundreds of times now. Rehearsed it in the car on my morning commute, in my head while I worked out, in the shower when I knew I was home alone. Nothing ever felt right. How do you reduce how you feel about someone into a stream of words that you hope will convey just how strong those feelings are, the depth of your affection? The more I thought about it, the more I realized, you can’t, well maybe poets, authors, or people with greater handle on their words than I could. But me? It was all wrong, too forced, too purple in prose to do it justice.” He could feel Stiles go tense against his body and turned him in his arms so they faced each other. In Stiles’ eyes, Derek could see the hint of recognition, that he knew what was happening, but wasn’t allowing himself to believe it. Not yet anyway.

“Here’s the thing. The day I met you, I was seconds away from telling Stevie no when he asked if we could go make ornaments. Seconds, and what a tragedy that would have been. I would still be miserable, unfulfilled in any way that did not revolve around my kid. My heart would have this empty space in it, a space shaped like someone I didn’t know existed, because in my stupidity, I never met him. Tragedy of the times.

“I can’t boil down how I feel about you in any number of words. No matter how many I used, it wouldn’t be enough, would never be enough. But, I can tell you a little. When you looked at Stephen the first time, I thought for sure, I was going to need to have some uncomfortable words with you, explaining that yes, he was a boy, and yes I was aware that he happened to be wearing a skirt, but you asked him his name and went on teaching him how to make that ornament as if you saw boys in tutu skirts and pink Converse everyday. We went back everyday, and he would only work with you. And I kept thinking to myself, there was no way I was falling for this guy we spend maybe an hour a day with. I’d managed almost six years without needing to have someone else in my life; I could manage another fifty more. But you, without even trying, you broke me down. With your little art projects and bad jokes, the way you treated Stevie and me, you rebuilt me. I am _nothing_ like the man I was two years ago, for all the best reasons. I tried to tell myself that I changed on my own, but I know it’s not true. That was you, _all of it_ was you.” Ring in hand, he dropped to one knee. “Stiles, you are truly beautiful, the most real person I’ve ever met, and I want to continue waking up next to you for the rest of my life. Vee-jez...Veed-jez- za… Oh fuck it. Will you marry me?”

 

Stiles stared down at him in shock for a moment before joining him on the floor, his arms tightly wrapped around Derek’s neck.

 

“So that’s a yes?”

 

“Yes, absolutely, very much so. Definite yes.” He captured Derek’s lips in an ecstatic kiss, a few tears of utter happiness rolling down his cheeks. “Wyjdziesz za mnie?”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what you were trying to say in Polish.”

 

Derek laughed and slid the ring onto Stiles’ finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it fit just fine. Then, he pulled the second one, the one he’d had made for himself out of the case and slipped it onto his finger. Stiles stood first, and then offered a hand to pull Derek to his feet. The loud crack his knees made as he stood had to be heard several galleries over. It was that loud. “I am so old.” He took back the camera from the employee and turned off the microphone on his phone. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

 

The man, about John’s age, nodded. “I think you’ll find I got some really good shots. I hope your lives are filled with happiness.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

On their way out of the museum, Stiles could not stop smiling, or staring at his ring. The face of it had been engraved, and though abstract, he could tell it was a wolf and a fox sitting next to each other, their bodies curled in an embrace. It was gorgeous. “Did you have these made?” He looked over at Derek to see him staring at the screen on the camera, a shocked expression on his face. “What? No useable pictures?”

 

Derek shook his head. “He...filmed it. The museum doesn’t allow filming, and this is so much better.”

 

Stiles stopped abruptly just inside the doors and pulled out his phone, curling an arm around Derek’s shoulders and tugged him against his side. “Smile, D.” He tapped the button on his phone to capture the picture, quickly sending it off to anyone that mattered with the caption ‘ _Guess who’s getting married?_ ’

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Stiles gasped. The broad stripe Derek licked down his torso had turned him into a writhing and panting mess on the bed. There was something to be said for slow and tender. Don’t get him wrong, hard and frantic sex, the kind they’d had the night before in an alcohol fueled haze, was awesome. But tonight called for foreplay that lasted until someone begged and long, drawn out orgasms. Hell, it took them ten minutes just to get undressed, and this was round two, the first was the quickie before room service arrived with the champagne.

 

Derek left an open-mouthed kiss on Stiles’ hip, taking the skin between his teeth to nip at it slightly. He whimpered, looking down his torso as Derek hooked Stiles’ legs over his shoulders. How did _he_ , Stiles Stilinski, managed to get here?

 

Before Derek, he’d had relationships, sure, but they never worked out, never lasted long. He knew his personality, and he just figured that he was too annoying for anyone to want to be with for an extended period of time. He’d dealt with the disappointment of that revelation and moved on. No sense moping about other people’s perceptions of him.

 

That didn’t mean he didn’t want, ache for a relationship where the other person found those quirks endearing, long for those quiet domestic moments watching his significant other make breakfast in the morning. He did. He’d wanted them badly. He just decided that he was meant to be a bachelor for a while, perhaps forever.

 

Derek took him into his mouth again, swallowing him down in one long and slow stroke, and by slow, Stiles meant torturously slow. It was perfect. He could feel himself coming undone from Derek’s mouth, his hands, just Derek in the most delicious way. His fingers, curled in Derek’s hair, gave a little tug.

 

Derek pulled off him. “You want me to stop?”

 

“No, no. Fuck no. Just a- yeah keep doing that. Mmm,  exactly- yeah.”

 

Derek smirked and kissed the inside of Stiles’ thigh.

 

Destined for a life of hookups- Stiles had been sure of it. While he watched Scott have a short string of relationships, each girl, his step-brother declared ‘the one’, Stiles waited in the wings, suffering in quiet envy. He wanted his own epic love story, damn it.

 

He looked down his torso at Derek to find his boyf- wait, his fiance--and wow just the sound of that in his head was one of the greatest feelings he’d ever experienced--staring up at him through a fringe of dark lashes like Stiles was the sun and Derek was determined to melt. Then again, he usually looked at Stiles like he was precious, a thing to be worshipped and nothing less. Stiles sometimes found it hard to breathe under Derek’s gaze.

 

He tapped on Derek’s head. “I’m close. No, don’t keep going.. Don’t wanna come yet. Just come here.”

 

Derek surged up Stiles’ body, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss. Stiles felt lightheaded in the way Derek’s tongue sought out rediscover the caverns of his mouth, places he’d long since explored, but never forgotten. Stiles rolled his hips along with Derek and clung to him like a life raft, too long adrift at sea, but that had finally spotted shore. It was a heady thing, this overwhelming feeling of finding a perfect counterpoint in another person. Addicting? Maybe. Intoxicating?

 

Every damn time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, i'm aware the Met does not currently have View of Toledo on display, but they do have it in storage so work with me here.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.captaintinymite.tumblr.com)


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